And the Walls Whispered
by Asmarus
Summary: They pushed into him, their weight crushing into his chest. His lungs couldn't expand, his heart couldn't beat, and his blood stopped in his veins, thick and cold. And that's when the walls whispered... R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own CoVT, whatsoever. This is just for entertainment, not profit. On with the story :D

Vladimir's muscles coiled as he walked down the halls.  
Thick walls surrounded him. They were so colorless and simple that they blended together, making it impossible for him to remember each hall that he passed through.  
The lights above him buzzed loudly with a life of their own and the artificial brightness they gave off burned his eyes. The men on either side of him gripped tightly at his biceps, as if he'd run away. If he even attempted, he would never be able to find his way out. The walls would envelop him, adding another confusing passage to this puzzle of an institution.  
His white slip-ons thumped quietly on the glossy linoleum floor. _'White'_ Vlad thought _'Its everywhere.'  
_He was given a plain white t-shirt along with a pair of white pants. His outfit pretty much matched the workers and nurses, the only difference being the name tags on their shirts.  
It seemed the only colors that existed in this place belonged to those who were damned to be left here, left to be alone and to wallow in whatever it was that resided in the dark of their minds that came out to pull their strings, to command their whims and make them claw at what little control they still had left-if any.  
Vladimir continued to be guided by the men who, according to their name tags, were Drew Harvey and Daniel Whims. Their palms were sweaty against his skin. The muscles in their wrists twitching. Were they scared of him?  
Vlad didn't know what it was that the hospital had written in his file but whatever it was, it must be pretty brutal. The guys looked at him as if he could skull fuck them and then send them to Hell.  
They rounded a sharp corner, making Vladimir stumble as his shoes caught the floor, creating an annoying squeak.  
Once he regained his balance, shooting angry glares at the men as he did so, he noticed heavy metal doors at each wall. They had small windows at the top and an even smaller slot at the bottom that locked from the outside.  
_Disturbing...  
_Vlad held his breath for a moment. _What was that? _Silence. He winced as a shrill scream pierced his ears. The sound of metal on metal echoed in the air. _Chains?  
_Drew, the man on the right, extended his arm and began to bang on a nearby door labeled 84. Angrily he yelled, "Knock it off!"  
Daniel, the one on the left still gripping Vlad's arm, muttered "Crazy bitch" as he gave a low and rough chuckle.  
They ventured down the hall a little more before stopping at a door that read 88. "In you go" Drew said after he produced a set of keys and unlocked the door. He gave a heavy push and the door moved forwards.  
The room was simple, the walls were a soft blue, there was a small bathroom(with no door) to the right and a bed to the left that was attached to the wall, and a small window that only a cat could fit through. They directed Vladimir over to the bed where he slowly sat down, watching them with warning eyes. They looked at each other then gave him a careful smile, one you would give an animal to try and assure them to not attack you. The smile, of course, never worked. Vladimir always assumed that it would provoke the animal more, make it feel like you were smiling cause you thought it was a joke.  
The men moved away, the rustling of fabric filled the room before the door was shut and locked loudly.  
Vlad leaned back onto the mattress. The mattress was hard but the sheets were soft and comforting, the same color of the walls. He breathed in their clean scent.  
He closed his eyes and wished he was back home in his own bed and not locked up in this place. Here in the Stokerton Psychiatric Hospital. This place was reserved for people with more _severe_ disorders.  
Vladimir wanted all of this to be just a disorder. Just a sick delusion that his mind was victim to but, no. Nothing was that simple when it came to him.  
He opened his eyes. The lights in the room shut off. They were probably set to some timer.  
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to be calm. The dark wasn't okay. That's something he told the doctors about. _They _like the dark. That's when _they _spoke the most to him and that's when more of them come, the darkness acting like an open door.  
Heavy breathing, deep and strained.  
Vladimir shook. It wasn't him. He turned on his side and looked at the wall. The window cast a thin stream of moonlight into the room.  
The shadows danced and mixed together. They molded into shapes and crashed back into thick darkness. The shadows began to shift more visibly, almost coming off the wall. The plains of the surface shifted. They broke apart, connected, and built their own architects.  
The shadows continued to move. They crept along, brushing past his pale, trembling skin.  
The breathing became louder.  
They pushed into him, their weight crushing into his chest. His lungs couldn't expand, his heart couldn't beat, and his blood stopped in his veins, thick and cold.  
And that's when the walls whispered...


	2. Chapter 2

The suns painful rays streamed through the small window. Vladimir's eyes burned from his lack of sleep. He hadn't slept for weeks before he came to the hospital and last night proved that simple fact wasn't going to change. He was tired, yes, but he knew _they _were waiting for him to let his guard down so they could slip into his already fragile mindset, ultimately destroying him from within, readily able to control him however they wanted physically and mentally.  
The thought made him shiver.  
With a slow yawn, Vladimir sat up causing his back to audibly _crack_ in the process. Massaging the sore muscles he stood on weak legs, attempting to right himself into a standing position but the sudden change in his line of vision caused him to tilt. The bright colors faded into blackness and a blatant ringing started deep inside his head.  
He threw his arms out to catch himself but instead of meeting the hard tiles of the floor he fell into a rigid warmth.  
"Oh, are you alright?"  
Delicate limbs encircled him, pulling him back into a standing position.  
He blinked several times until he was met with the sight of a woman with bright green eyes and caramel colored hair gazing at him with concern.  
"Um, yeah, I just blacked out a bit…I guess" Vladimir replied, his brow furrowed.  
However she had entered without him noticing wasn't important, he was just glad she had been there before he had plunged into the floor.  
Her eyes still held concern so he gave a dismissive and light hearted chuckle.  
_I'm fine_, were his words voiced in the expressive sound.  
She smiled and allowed her posture to relax. "My name is Cherise Brown." she extended her hand out to him after she had stooped down to pick up her handbag.  
"Vladimir Tod" he took her hand in his and gave it a firm yet gentle shake.  
"I'm a psychologist here at the hospital and I was hoping that maybe we could talk" Cherise said in a light tone.  
_'So gentle, so perfectly weak_.' _No, no, no. Not now! Not when she's so close…  
_ Vlad began to sweat. _Watch your tongue and your actions. Stay on the down low. Don't let her think anything's wrong, you'll get out of here faster. You'll be back home in no time_, he chanted in his head._  
_ "Vladimir?"  
He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "Yes? Um, sorry , I got lost for a second." Vlad smiled. Quickly, he slipped into her mind.  
_ Quite the gentleman. _A smile brushed across her lips.  
_'Your playing this well so far, Vladimir. Just keep acting smart.'_ The voice was smooth in his head. It had been with him for so long, ever since that day his parents died. As a child it just gave quiet afterthoughts, but now it openly spoke to him. But _they_, the whispers, had always been with him. They were malevolent,sick. His father would keep them away by using a special glyph that he'd trace onto his skin using his own blood. Vladimir had long since forgotten how to mimic its intricate design, eliminating any hope of getting them to leave.  
_'Dwelling in the past, are we? You must focus on the tasks at hand, Vladimir. Like taking care of this woman.'_ The last words of the sentence held malice and lust. '_She was so close earlier. You could've tasted her blood then. You need it, Vladimir. You're getting weak. They'll break you if you don't drink it. Just use her, quickly!'  
_ _No.  
_ His throat burned and his tongue begged to taste and savor the sweet blood. He wanted to let his fangs slide out of hiding and rake them across soft, living flesh. But he wouldn't do it, not to someone so unknowing and fragile.  
As he welcomed back reality, Vladimir replied to her earlier question, "I'd love to talk".  
That and a plastic smile was all she needed to say "Follow me" and start leading the way to what Vladimir inferred would be her office.  
He followed closely behind her, watching as her hair swished along her shoulders. Each time it did so or even if she took in a deep breathe her scent would fill the air, both the perfume and the delicacy that pumped through her veins. The more he took it in, the more he lost himself.  
The voice seemed to hum in satisfaction at this. Deep and reverberating. As he admired the sound he realized it wasn't a hum it was a…a moan? Longing, desperate, begging. Vlad acknowledged the fact that that's a lot of what the voice did. Beg. Beg for him to keep himself healthy and strong, to not back down, to do all he can. He could remember it-no that wasn't right anymore, he could remember _him_ even uttering a desperate please as he fought Diablo. Please keep trying.  
He helped Vlad when no one else was there. He encouraged him. But sometimes Vlad didn't want to do what was really needed, like drink blood.  
Yeah, he was really starting to sound like he was crazy.  
Cherise stopped in her stride, turned back, and glanced at Vladimir as she unlocked the door to her office. "Here we are" she said as she stepped in and set her bag on top of her desk.  
"Please excuse the mess, it's been a hectic week." she said as she gestured to the papers, pens, and files that littered its rosewood surface.  
Vlad wondered if his file was there somewhere.  
"So," he started, "where do we start?"  
"Why don't you tell me what it was like when you were younger? You can tell me anything from what you wanted to be when you grew up to events that really stand out and mean something to you. I'm not going to judge you in any way so don't feel like you have to hide anything." that sweet smile played across her lips again.  
What should he say? How much should he tell? He had the common sense not to talk about his vampirism, but what about _them_? What all did she know from his file? He had never really ever _talked_ to anyone, could he do this?  
Vladimir didn't know what to do. His palms got sweaty and his legs began to shake. Slowly he eased himself into a nearby chair.  
_'It's okay, Vlad. Just say what you can and what you want. I'm here. Just talk. Don't worry I'm here.'  
_ Cherise sat down in front of the desk, she had set a notepad and pen nearby and was now watching intently.  
Vladimir calmed his breathing. He was there, always was. He relaxed as his gentle, smooth voice assured him, eventually telling him sweet nothings as he did so often lately.  
He closed his eyes and rubbed circles around his temples before he started.  
"Well…"

A/N: I'm so, so tired. Omigosh my eyes and my back are _killing me_! But, the pain is worth it since I've actually accomplished something :P


End file.
